


I'm So In Love With You (And I Hope You Know)

by ImJustLikeMe



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Miscommunication, theres a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJustLikeMe/pseuds/ImJustLikeMe
Summary: "What is going on Betty Cooper? What did Jughead do? I’ll rent a billboard to display his real name on it, then kill him after he’s been tortured by it.”“Wow, calm down, V,” Betty ordered with wide eyes.“Well something happened, and I’ve been picking up on it for at least ten days, but have said nothing about it until right now when you brought it up.”“That shows a lot of growth for you, V, I’m actually proud,” Betty insisted. “Letting me try and handle my own life and emotions is good.”“Obviously not if something is happening, so spill.”“Nothing’s happening!” Betty exclaimed, then quieted down as others looked at her. “I’m serious, nothing happened.”“So you’re just feeling…disenchanted? With what? Jughead? Life? School? What?”“I’m not,” Betty replied, “but I think Jughead is. With me.”*Or a slightly alternate AU where the core four go to school in NYC and Betty thinks the magic between her and Jughead is gone, Veronica helps, and fluff and drama ensues with smut to occur eventually. Two-shot.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, this is my first Riverdale fanfic. I got into the show late in the game, but instantly fell in love with Bughead (and SprouseHart)
> 
> Leave kudos if you like (pretty please) and if you have suggestions, commentary, etc, please leave a comment because it means a lot to me! 
> 
> Thank you so much!

There is no doubt in Betty Cooper’s mind that moving to New York was the right thing to do.

She was so _lonely_ at Northwestern. The journalism program was excellent, she had made a few friends, was excelling in her classes, but she just wasn’t… _happy,_ she wasn’t thriving the way she felt she did in high school.

It was in the middle of sophomore year when she considered Columbia’s journalism program, and after an extensive amount of research, a pros and cons list, and a phone call to admissions about transferring credits she _put together a presentation_ for her mother.

It happened the last week before spring semester, when she mustered up the courage and couldn’t bear the thought of not at least trying before going back to another semester at Northwestern. There were statistics, graphs, charts, and photo evidence all for her parents to see.

Sure, she didn’t need their approval, they didn’t have to agree with it, but she wanted them to. Alice and Hal had made great strides at seeing things from their daughter’s point of view after the whole Polly/Jason pregnancy debacle that resulted in lying, running away, a police search, and the Blossom’s trying to call Polly, and by extension Alice and Hal, an unfit parent. It took a lot of time, talking, and even a bit of therapy, but it was working and her parents were always trying to be better.

“Is this because of the Jughead?” was the first thing out of her mother’s mouth. Of course.

Betty wasn’t going to lie, Jughead Jones had something to do with it, but it wasn’t just him. It was Archie and Veronica too. If she added all the emotional reasons she wanted to move to New York her parents would never go for it. The first rule of making a presentation was to know your audience and market it as such.

“Mom, he doesn’t even know about this,” Betty admitted. “I didn’t—I don’t want him or you to think it’s because of him. Yes, he goes to NYU so we’d be in the same area, but it’s not just about that. I know you don’t want to hear this but Veronica and Archie are there too, and Columbia’s program is amazing, and—“

“Betty,” Hal interrupted her softly, “we understand how hard it must be knowing all your friends are together in the city, but we want to make sure this decision is because of you, what is best for your future and education, not just because you’re jealous that they are all together.”

She collapsed on the couch. “It has something to do with it, yes,” she agreed, “but it’s so much more than that. I’m not happy at Northwestern, Dad, not the way I thought I would be. I knew being away from Jughead would be hard, Veronica and Archie too, but it’s not just that. I’m not excited to go to class or enthralled with my program. Most days I feel like I’m just… existing and I don’t want to do that. I really think this is the best thing for me, academically and otherwise.”

Her parents looked at each other in some sort of silent communication.

“If you need time to talk about it before telling me what you think I’ll wait before I make any decisions, but this is my decision to make. I want you guys to support me, and I’ll need your financial support, but if you don’t want to help or agree with this I’ll do my best to make my own way. I am your daughter, and you taught me to follow my instincts and be resourceful, but I need to know so I can plan accordingly.”

The silent communication continued, but finally her mother broke the silence. “So, what was your plan for us saying yes?”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Betty squealed while catapulting herself onto her mother. “I’ll finish the year at Northwestern and start as a junior at Columbia. I already contacted admissions and…” she rambled on to her parents while smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

And so, it was decided. In the fall, she would continue her education at Columbia, majoring in Journalism, maybe picking up a minor, and she would be in the same city as her best friends and boyfriend.

Veronica took the news well, of course, and Archie was happy, but he was mostly happy Betty was happy. It was Jughead who was hesitant. Like her parents he didn’t want the move to be for him, but after showing him the same presentation as her parents, and only making it halfway through, he was convinced, and his smile was bigger than she had ever seen.

It wasn’t until mid-July that Jughead had suggested they move in together—they were in his dad’s trailer, listening to the rain pounding on the tin roof, lying in each other’s arms, their bodies sticking together in afterglow.

“What?” Betty murmured, her hand stilling in his hair. Jughead always wore his hat, but after she admitted she went weak in the knees at him running a hand through his dark waves he tended to lose it once they were alone.

“Move in with me,” he repeated, tilting her chin up to look him better in the eye. “We’ve tried being apart, Betts. We broke up in high school, we did that whole ‘I love you but it’s college so let’s see what happens’ thing freshmen year, and it ended with you calling me mid-October in tears. I drove over ten hours in Veronica’s car to be with you, even if it was only for thirty-six hours. I don’t want to live away from you in the same city, I don’t care how much closer you’ll be. I want this, with you, every day.”

Betty, at a loss for words, and with tears in her eyes nodded, pressed her lips again his and then the trailer shook from more than thunder.

Jughead and Archie were supposed to live together again, but the plans quickly changed. Veronica swooped in and found the two a decently priced one bedroom apartment in Midtown, almost evenly distanced between their respective schools, and told Archie she could help him find a roommate for the apartment he and Jughead were to share, or he could move in with her in Manhattan, no strings, and she meant it.

It took him two days to think about it, but he decided to move in with Veronica, insisting he was going to spend most nights there anyways, or on Jug and Betty’s couch, and it would be pointless to pay rent for an apartment he only slept in maybe two days of the week.

They moved in mid-August, giving Betty time to adjust to New York, see some sights, and not feel like a total tourist before the semester started.

And she loved it. She loved the vibe of the city, the feeling that she belonged, and that every night when she went home Jughead was there. Or, even if he wasn’t there because of night classes and their jobs, he would be soon.

Veronica was one train ride away, Archie too, her classes were fun, her classmates interesting, and she finally felt a sense of peace she hadn’t had since graduation of high school.

They were busy, but they made it work. Jug showed her his secret hideaways, favorite places for dine-in coffee and food, and she discovered it was different when it came to takeout. He told her all about the movie theatre that only played classic movies, the places to avoid in general, and then insisted she take a self-defense class if she was going to be in the city alone while in transit.

Betty thought it was unnecessary, but Veronica loved the idea, and next thing she knew she was signed up for a series of classes that miraculously worked about both her and V’s schedule.

New York City felt like home in a way Northwestern never did, and in a way Riverdale didn’t anymore.

It didn’t matter what was going on in her personal life, she knew New York was the right choice, but as she looked back at her sleeping boyfriend, lightly snoring, she felt a twist in her gut she hadn’t felt since she’d accepted Northwestern’s offer senior year knowing they wouldn’t be together the next year.

Jughead’s dark hair was splayed over the pillowcase, his mouth slightly open, and his arm extended over the space her body once occupied.

Betty wasn’t mad at him, they weren’t in a fight, in reality nothing was wrong, but something also didn’t feel _right_.

She turned back to look in the mirror, remembering she was dressed only in a black bralette that crisscrossed over her chest and matching panties, and decided to throw on a white flowy tank top that showed the intertwining straps, after all she did work tonight. She was lazily looking for what to wear overtop when she heard the boy occupying her thoughts groan.

“Fuck I hate Fridays,” he said in a yawn and she turned to find him staring at her.

“And why is that?” she questioned, hands on her hips and a lip between her teeth.

“Unless I wake up at the ass crack of dawn I don’t get to see you. I hate waking up early, but I hate not seeing you even more.”

Betty gave in and crawled on their bed, settling over him in a straddle. She leaned down to kiss him, and his fingers wove into her hair and tugged, making her moan and bite his lip.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she whispered against his mouth and he simply continued to kiss her. “Jug, I mean it, I can’t be late,” she murmured.

The pad of his thumb swept over her lips before moving down and gripping her hips. “Time is just a construct, baby.”

Betty laid a hand on either side of his head and brushed their noses together. “Says the boy who didn’t come in until past one AM last night.”

“Fuck this professional writing class, I fucking hate it,” he groaned. “This final is going to kill me. I hate group projects, I hate the professor—“

“You hate it, Jug, I know,” she finished for him, pressing her lips against his.

“I fucking miss you,” he insisted, rolling them over and breathing her in.

Betty let herself relax, loving the feeling of his weight on top of her, and her eyes fluttered closed as his mouth lightly sucked on her collarbone. “Mm, you leave a hickey on me, Jughead Jones, and you’ll regret it.”

In response he sunk his teeth into the skin and she tried to withhold her moan, but failed.

“Jug, I have class,” she breathed, her hands laced through his locks.

Silently, he gave up his battle and simply snuggled into her breasts, then breathed in deeply.

Betty continued to play with his hair, slowly lulling him back to sleep—after all it was barely seven AM and when she fell asleep at one he wasn’t even home, so he couldn’t have gotten much rest. It only took five minutes before he was snoring again and she scooted out from underneath him.

With a sigh she threw on a light jean button up left unbuttoned, jeans of the same color, black ankle boots and of course her signature ponytail. She'd broken the habit of wearing it up every day, but seemed to have picked it back up for the time being.

Betty grabbed a fruit bowl to-go and energy bar before leaving the apartment, then spent two minutes staring at the dark hallway before continuing on her way.

Like Jughead, she hated Fridays.

*

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m late. I’m so sorry,” Betty apologized while all but falling to her chair at the café her and Veronica ate a late lunch at every Monday and Friday. It was their girl time without the boys interrupting or added commentary.

“Sweetie,” Veronica started after another sip from her coffee, “these days, late is your on-time, so no worries.”

“I know, I hate this semester,” she groaned, her bag dropping with a thud. “If only my mother could see me now.”

“What would she say? ‘Oh look, there goes my brilliant, always on-the-go daughter, acing all her classes, kicking ass in her minor, and doing it all while looking fabulous’,” Veronica did her best impersonation, and honestly it wasn’t bad.

“More like ‘Oh, there’s my Betty, too much heart and not enough brain, she followed her boyfriend to the big city just for him to’—never mind,” she sighed and slumped over.

“Okay, joke time over, what is going on Betty Cooper? What did Jughead do? I’ll rent a fucking billboard to display his real name on it, then kill him after he’s been tortured by it.”

“Wow, calm down, V,” Betty ordered with wide eyes.

“Well something happened, and I’ve been picking up on it for at least ten days, and have said nothing about it until right now when you brought it up.”

“That shows a lot of growth for you, V, I’m actually proud,” Betty insisted. “Letting me try and handle my own life and emotions is good.”

“Obviously not if something is happening, so spill.”

“Nothing’s happening!” Betty exclaimed, then quieted down as others looked at her. “I’m serious, nothing happened.”

“So you’re just feeling…disenchanted? With what? Jughead? Life? School? What?”

“I’m not,” Betty replied, “but I think Jughead is. With me.”

“What?” Veronica almost laughed. “Are you serious? That boy would murder someone for you, or at least cover up a murder you committed, then go down in flames insisting he did it just to keep you out of trouble.”

Betty’s brows scrunched together. “I don’t think that’s a mark of a good relationship? I am a psych minor, you have to use scenarios that are healthy and work for me,” she reminded her best friend.

“I know, I know, you believe in helping, not just taking pills and hoping it goes away, because you were on pills for years due to your mother, and those pills, while helpful to others in different situations, did nothing for you. I’ve heard the spiel, I support it, so _you_ work with _me_ here.”

“V, it’s nothing, I’m being stupid,” she insisted, smiling as the waiter dropped off their food. Of course, Veronica already ordered, and of course, she knew exactly what Betty wanted. #bestfriendgoals

“Okay, okay, Jughead… looks at you like you’re the air he breathes, and without you he’s nothing because you're his other half.”

“Better, thank you,” Betty quipped, only to have the raven-haired girl give her one of her best glares. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“Would I ever let go of a Jimmy Choo heel on Black Friday when some old hag is fighting with me over it?”

“Veronica, that’s not funny, I really think that old lady broke her hip after that tug-of-war,” Betty chastised.

“She was spritely, she got right back up, I made sure,” Veronica said with a wave of her hand. “Stop trying to change the subject. What is going on with you and Jughead?”

“Nothing! Nothing is going on, _that’s_ the problem!”

Veronica’s eyes widened in know. “Ooooh, how long?”

Betty made a show of thinking about it, “three weeks tomorrow.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know, and I know we’re busy, but—we’ve been busy before and always at least got intimate somehow.”

“Betty, we’re twenty-one years old, I think you can say ‘fucked’ or even boned and your mother won’t hear it from Riverdale and drive all the way here to scold you.”

“Never underestimate Alice Cooper,” Betty told her, completely serious. “And that’s not what I mean, like…” she trailed off. “Usually, one of us will surprise the other in the shower, and depending on whoever got it last I’d blow him or he’d eat me out, or finger me, or something. Or, he’d wake me up when he came home late and even though I was angry about it, it only lasted for about two minutes because, you know. Or, in the morning, sometimes he senses me in the room, but not in bed with him, and he’ll try to seduce me to be late for class. Even though I say no multiple times because of time constraints, somehow my pants and underwear find their way off and it’s happening, but by then I don’t give a fuck what day it is, let alone what class I’m late for. Or—“

“I get it, you play coy, he takes you anyways, everyone gets what they want,” Veronica said. “Have you tried just initiating it yourself? I know Jug tends to take the lead, but I know you also have your own deviant side, Betty Cooper, tap into it.”

“I have tried, I’m not just saying this because he hasn’t done anything, I’ve been trying to do my part too. I surprised him in the shower last week and after the obligatory hello kiss, but before the fun started, he totally shut me down and just got out of the shower saying something about catching up on editing, like what is that?”

“I definitely wouldn’t walk out on you in the shower,” Veronica sighed with a nod, then took in Betty’s look. “I know, not helping. Anything else?”

“I tried waiting up for him, wearing only one of his flannels unbuttoned, and very lacy, pretty much unnecessary, undergarments they were so lacy, but fell asleep and when I woke up I was under the covers and he was sleeping next to me.”

“Well, that was sweet of him, he put you under the covers.”

“V, please just—what’s wrong with me?” she whispered, looking down at her food.

“Elizabeth Cooper, there is not one single fucking thing wrong with you, I promise you that,” Veronica stated in her best friend/mother hen voice and that voice was not to be trifled with.

“Maybe he’s the one who is disenchanted with me. Like, maybe the magic is gone now that we live in the same city, let alone the same apartment. I mean, he’s seen me look downright grizzly, if you know what I mean, how can someone be that attractive after that?”

“Betty, I’ve literally looked at mole on Archie’s ass he was worried about, concluded it was a pimple, then popped that sucker, and we still have sex at least every other day. Trust me, you being a little stubbly isn’t what is causing this issue.”

“I’m not used to showing someone the less-than-perfect side of me, Veronica,” Betty’s voice was low and vulnerable. “And I know I hate that word, I _hate_ it, but growing up the way I did, even though my parents are so much better now, it’s not something I can just switch off. Sure, I’m not walking around in bright pastels 24/7, my back isn’t as pin straight, and I feel comfortable forgoing make up now and then, but I’ve showed him every side of me, V,” she went on. “The sad, the miserable, the insufferable… maybe going to school and living on opposite sides of town romanticized us, like we were fighting so hard to be together for so long, now that we are finally together it’s less than what he expected. Maybe I am just not _enough,_ ” the last word came out choked and Betty summoned her inner Alice Cooper and fought the tears because this kind emotion is not to be shown in public, not ever.

“Oh, B,” Veronica scooted her chair closer and wrapped Betty up in a hug that she melted into. “Betty, I need you to listen to me and believe me when I say you are enough. You’re more than enough. You’re everything, okay? There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re driven, you’re talented, and I have seen you naked and is nothing you need to worry about there,” she went on and Betty let out a wet laugh. “I’d say you’re even in the running to be the best person on Earth.”

Betty snorted and pulled away, wiping her cheeks with shaky hands. “I think more than your vote counts for that one, V.”

“Don’t doubt my influence, Betty Cooper,” Veronica teased and Betty honestly believed that Veronica could take over the world if she wanted to. Well, her or Cheryl Blossom.

“I just wish I knew what was wrong,” Betty admitted. “If it is something that has to do with me maybe I can fix it. Or maybe it’s school or his dad or Jellybean,” she rambled off, “I just don’t think I can survive losing him.”

“You would,” Veronica stated firmly. “You’re so fucking strong, Betty, I admire that about you, but you won’t have to find out. Jughead is over the moon in love with you, a blind man could see it, trust me. This is something else, it has to be.”

“But what if it’s not?” Betty questioned and played with her food. “I know it’s approaching finals, and I know he has a million projects, so do I, but—it’s never been like this. I’ve never felt this out of place with him, never. We barely even talk anymore. When I have an early class he used to always text me when he got up, just so I knew it was safe to text him because without me there to physically lightened his mood he's—“

“Beyond grumpy, I know, I’ve been on the receiving end of that and it is not pretty.”

“Yeah, and he would text me something stupid or sardonic—“

“Of course.”

Betty nodded. “It could be just ‘I love you’ or it would be a picture of my hair on the wall of the shower because all girls do that, and he’d be complaining about it, you know.”

“Archie hates when I do that, but I have to deal with red beard trimmings everywhere when he shaves, so he can deal.”

“Same, only dark hair,” Betty sniffled in a smile. “It was just one of our things, but he doesn’t do it anymore. Or when I’d leave him a plate of whatever I made, he would write some horrible poem about how amazing it was and leave it for me to find, even if I was still awake and talking with him, just so when I stumbled across it later I would laugh.”

“I remember I found one of those… I think he rhymed ‘class’ with ‘Betty Cooper’s sweet, sweet ass’. That boy should stick to non-fiction.”

“He did it as jokes, V, he hates writing poetry. I would text him 'I love you' and some version of goodnight if I thought he wouldn't be home before I fell asleep, and he'd do the same, but we haven't in weeks,” she recalled, thinking harder than necessary about it. “We don’t talk anymore, we’re always busy, he’s making excuses, he even ‘fell asleep’ on the couch twice lately. I don’t know what to do.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“I know that too.”

“I miss him.”

“We’ll figure this out, I swear, and once we do, I’m going to kill him for making you feel this way.”

“Veronica,” Betty warned.

“No, I am, the one who is worth your tears should never actually make you cry.”

“He doesn’t know, I’m very good at hiding my feelings.”

“Obviously not if I picked up on it.”

“I wanted you to, subconsciously. I can keep up the perfect façade with him too well, a trait I inherited from my mother, no doubt.”

“Alright, enough of the sad, finish eating your lunch before you have to get to class because you never have time for a proper before dinner before work.”

Betty listened to her best friend and hoped she was right, because if she wasn’t…. she could only imagine what it would feel like to have her heart completely break.

*

“Jughead Jones!” Veronica Lodge shouted as she spotted the beanie-wearing boy exiting the brick building she had been staking out.

Jughead paused mid-step, and seeing Veronica made him slouch and curse . “If you need something I can’t right now, I’m late and—“

 “Jughead! Stop, this is important. It’s Betty,” Veronica stated.

“Did something happen? Is she okay?” he questioned while digging his phone out of his pocket.

“No, stop, you can’t call her,” Veronica insisted, snatching his phone out of hand. “There’s nothing wrong with her physically…it’s emotional.”

Jughead’s shoulders relaxed. “Don’t fucking scare me like that, Ronnie,” he warned through gritted teeth.

Although surprising, over the years Jughead and Veronica forged a friendship that was closer than either of them would let on. They often battled using their wits and humor, but both knew how fond the other was. It helped they were dating best friends, and his girlfriend was her best friend, and his best friend was her boyfriend, and every other degree of Kevin Bacon there was in their twisted history.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I upset you?” she asked sarcastically.

“You just fucking ambushed me outside of class and said something is wrong with Betty, then tell me nothing is really wrong? What the fuck?”

“I didn’t say something wasn’t wrong, I said she wasn’t in a car accident or something. There is something wrong, and that something is you,” Veronica started, complete with a chest poke.

“What? You don’t know what you’re talking about and I have to get to class—“

“I do know what I’m talking about, Forsythe, so don’t try and brush me off again.”

Jughead’s eyes darkened. “Don’t call me—“

“Fuck your first name, I’ll use it as long as you’re making my best fucking friend think something is wrong with her.”

“What are you talking about? What happened?”

“It’s more of what hasn’t happened,” Veronica insisted with a knowing look.

Now he rolled his eyes. “Veronica, if you’re making a big deal out of something you don’t even know about—“

“Oh, I know a hell of a lot about it, and I know it hasn’t happened nearly three weeks,” Veronica cut him off. “Do you really think I’d lie about something like this? What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you avoiding her? You’re not fucking cheating on her, are you? Because I will literally bury you—“

Jughead stepped back as Veronica closed in on him. “Calm down, I am not and would never cheat on Betty, you know that, and she knows that,” he stated and she stopped stepping towards him. “What happened? Because Betty and I are fine.”

“You’re fine? You’re fine as in you haven’t had sex in three weeks?  You’re fine as in you found her in obvious ‘fuck me hard’ sexual attire and put her under the blankets and went to sleep? You’re fine as in you blew her off in the shower? You’re fine as in—“

“Is this about sex? Because honestly, if that is the problem she should talk to me about it, not you—“

“It’s not just about the sex, Jug, but when your girl is obviously trying to get some from you and you repeatedly turn her down what is she supposed to think? What is she supposed to think when you don’t text her anymore? What is she supposed to think when she doesn’t see you anymore? What is she supposed to think if you don’t do any of the cute, yet gross, couple-y stuff you’ve been doing since you started dating?”

“I’m busy, Veronica, it’s finals, and in my major finals means papers and projects, not just studying for one test and Betty knows that,” Jughead told her. “Now, I really do have to go—“

“She cried, Jughead,” Veronica said as he turned to leave, and he stopped dead in his tracks. “In public. You know Betty, and she doesn’t cry, and if she does you know it’s privately. Meaning, not in front of me, not in front of you, not unless we catch her or won’t let her do it alone.”

“What happened?” Jughead questioned, his face softening.

“She thinks you’re disenchanted with her, Jug,” Veronica told him, “That the magic is gone now that you’re finally together and not just fighting to be together.”

“How can she think that? We’ve been living together for almost a year, we’ve been actually together for five years, she can talk to me about anything.”

“Can she when she feels rejected? When she never sees you? Her whole life she had to pretend everything was perfect on the outside when it was the exact opposite on the inside. It’s a hard habit to stop and when she thinks that she’ll lose you if she brings it up—“

“She’ll keep pretending she’s okay,” Jughead finished and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck.”

“You two are so intertwined, Jug, that she knows she wouldn’t survive it, not as the Betty we know, and—her heart is breaking and she—Jug, you have to fix this.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jughead stated, frustration seeping through his pores. “I wouldn’t—I could never leave her, I’m not—fuck.”

“She’s showed you every part of her, probably even parts I don’t know, and when you let your walls down and think you’re safe, then realize you’re not—“

“She is. Fuck, stop rubbing it in, I know I screwed up. And I’m going to fix it, I will.”

“You are, today, right now. I’m not going to ask why you’re being shitty, I’m just going to tell you that if I don’t get some kind of message from Betty, verbal or otherwise, that everything is okay no one will find your body, Jughead Jones, and your empty grave will read your real name on the fucking tombstone,” she threatened before stomping away.

Jughead watched her go, snatching the beanie off his head to replace it with his hand. He pulled at his hair hard and sat down on the nearest bench.

His eyes followed the sidewalk down the way he should be going—to class, to meet with his professional writing group to continue working on their final, to the library to write, to places where he could ignore what was going on with his home life. Then, his eyes drifted the other way, towards his apartment with Betty, the direction of the blonde who needed him.

After five silent minutes of him ripping his hair out and digging palms into his eyes Jughead stood and picked the direction to go in, but as he made his way he couldn’t help but wonder why Betty was acting like this when she knew exactly what was going on.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is part two--leave your thoughts and your kudos if you haven't already! Thank you!
> 
> This jumps from Jughead to Betty POV and back, just as warning so you're not confused. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Jughead had done a lot of things in life he wasn’t proud of.

He lied for his parents when police would come by the trailer asking questions. He lied to Jellybean, saying everything was going to be okay, that their parents didn’t drink too much when he knew it was the opposite. He’d ignored when his dad obviously got in deeper with the Serpents, acted clueless when his mom asked him about it, then watched her and Jellybean drive away to Toledo to live with his grandparents, his sister’s sad wave getting smaller and smaller on the horizon.

When problems became too much he ignored them. When his mom left he acted like it didn’t hurt, like it was no big deal. When his dad started drinking too much (again) he made himself homeless until Archie caught him. When he got in over his head with the Serpents after his dad had gone to jail he convinced himself it was fine until his friends pulled him out of it.

To date, the thing he hated most about himself was making Betty feel like she wasn’t enough, that she was a problem for him instead of every single solution he had been searching for his entire life.

Jughead went home, because of course he did.

Nothing in his life is more important than Betty—not school, not work, not even himself. He’d managed to convince himself that everything was fine like he always did. Sure, things weren’t like before, not their best, but fine.

Yes, he’d been distant, yes he’d kept himself busy, but he didn’t know how else to handle any of it. And when he didn’t know how to handle things he ignored it.

Jughead collapsed against the door as he mentally berated himself, surveying the apartment and finally opening his eyes to the predicament he found himself in. Their apartment wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t its usual clean either.

Betty had managed to lose a good bit of the Alice Cooper structure that had been instilled in her during her childhood: work out first thing in the morning, look perfect, act perfect, keep everything neat and tidy, make everyone else happy, do what is expected of you, never show feeling.

It took time, but slowly she came into herself and became comfortable in her own skin.

Jughead had never been more proud than when she was confident enough to leave their home in yoga pants, one of his old shirts, hair down, and didn’t even think to look at herself in the mirror before deciding it if was okay to let the world see her so undone. He never thought she was more beautiful than when she rolled out of bed, face clear of makeup, hair in a messy bun, and wearing his clothes. He loved when he was able to get her to do something fun rather than study, or be late for class because they were making love.

But one thing Betty really held onto from childhood was keeping a tidy home, and looking around, Jughead cursed himself for not seeing the telltale signs something was wrong, just something else he ignored.

There were never dishes in the sink, Jughead had become accustomed to washing as he used them, to wiping up after a mess, the entire apartment being vacuumed daily, the bathroom being turned upside down for a deep clean at least once a week, their cat’s litter box done twice a day, if not more.

As he looked around, dishes piled up, splatters all over the stove, the floor in need of a scrub and sweep, he banged his head against the door behind him. Betty was giving him more signs than sexual and he had been blatantly ignoring them so he could continue to avoid it.

Their home wasn’t Betty-style-clean. She hadn’t left the house in anything less than a proper outfit. She was consistently staying up late to get face-time with him, only for him to come in too late, and then she was awake at six AM to go work out. She’d been losing weight. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were crescent shaped scars in her palms right now.

In a fit of rage he slammed his hands down on their dining room table, only to discover their cat had been hiding beneath and now was scampering away.

“Sorry, Rebel,” he murmured and rolled up his sleeves while walking over to the kitchen sink. While Betty was at work he had his own work to do, _a lot_ of work to do.

…

Betty had two jobs. One at the school newspaper (journalism majors are required contribute, but must get ‘hired’ to be an active writer and can only work twenty hours a week max, officially at least), the other at a bar some weekends if she wasn’t bogged down with work or had any prior commitments.

Jughead kept to the shadows outside the hole in the wall, lurking in the corners to watch his girlfriend behind the bar. She got off work in thirty minutes, give or take, and he hadn’t been this nervous when they had the awkward conversation of ‘are we dating?’ or ‘are we just making out during these highly emotional times because we’re teenagers with hormones?’, Betty’s words not his.

He didn’t even think he was this nervous when during one intense make out session a couple months into their relationship she pulled away and told him she wanted to have sex. They were in the living room at Archie’s, both Andrews men having made themselves scarce, and he recalled replying, very squeakily, ‘like right now?’ and made her laugh. Because Betty was Betty she insisted they plan their first time together. It was set to be at the trailer (the Serpents had joined together to pay the miniscule bills, since no one was actively living there, in thanks for FP not ratting anyone out and Jug still took solace in from time to time), she was to tell her parents she was at Veronica’s, he asked Archie to cover for him, and while he had been a bundle of nerves, it was more of the excitement kind, not like this.

Jughead looked down at his outfit, contemplating if he should have dressed up a bit more, but shook his head and stuck to his decision of just being himself. After all, that was who Betty was in love with, that was who Betty missed. He left the beanie at home, and while he felt a bit naked, he knew it would make Betty do that biting-her-lip thing that made him want to do the same thing, only maybe further south.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t missed her too. It wasn’t like he didn’t miss doing _that_ with her either. He slumped against the brick wall and sighed, staring at his black combat boots, black jeans, and black t-shirt, matched with a light gray jacket and a red flannel tied around his waist.

No, he was going to do this. He had a plan, reasoning, and he was going to stick to it. After cleaning the entirety of their apartment, doing the laundry, and emailing his professional writing group to say he was bailing on them, not exactly in that order, he took a shower and devised a plan he was going to execute. And he was going to start that right now.

With a wave of confidence he entered the bar, dodging shoulders and spilling drinks, the scent of smoke filling his nostrils and wished more than anything for a cigarette at the moment. Well, if he was making wishes he wished they could go back six weeks ago before shit in the fan in the most anticlimactic way.

Betty was still behind the bar—it being a bit of a dive the main drink ordered was beer so she didn’t have to know anything too fancy, and it wasn’t the sleaziest place either which made him sleep better at night knowing it was mildly safe. That, and he’d seen her right hook during her self-defense class graduation presentation and it was gnarly.

She was wearing the white top and black bra underneath with the straps he remembered from the morning, but her shoulders were bare, and he took a moment to continue hiding to just look at her. Her hair was down in waves, her makeup darker than usual as she normally did for these shifts, and she had a small red mark over her collarbone.

Jughead smirked, remembering that it was from his teeth, and she hadn’t put makeup on to cover it up like she wanted everyone to know she was taken.

And she fucking _was_. She was his for long as she’d let him have her.

Finally, he approached the bar and immediately caught her attention. For a moment she looked confused, but her eyes lit up just the same. He flicked his fingers in a sign for her to come out from behind.

They met in the middle when and she opened her mouth to say something he simply pressed his lips against hers, using the position to his advantage to let his tongue in. She instantly kissed back, her body nestling into his, her hands at the nape of his neck, a moan emitting from the back of her throat as he kissed her hard and dirty. It was the most physical thing they’d done in weeks.

Betty seemed to forget they were in public, but remembered when some asshole catcalled.

“Jug—“ she began but he just kissed her again, his palms cupping her cheeks and this time it was slower, more innocent. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, now practically dead weight in his arms.

Honesty was the best policy, right? “I had a visitor today,” he admitted. “Well, I think it was more of an attack, really.”

Betty’s eyes immediately filled with know. “Shit, Jug, I’m sorry. Veronica never should have—“

“What? Gotten in the middle? It’s Veronica, Betts, and if she thinks it’s what is best for you nothing can stop her.”

“It’s stupid, I’m being stupid. I don’t know what she told you—“

“Everything,” he interrupted. “And it’s not stupid, you’re definitely not stupid, and I’m the sorry one. Do you think I would ever want to do something to hurt you, Betty?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “She told me what happened.”

Betty moved to extract herself from him, but his arms locked around her waist. “Jug—“

“Don’t do that, don’t pull away.”

Betty tried harder this time and succeeded. “Me? I’m not the one pulling away here, Jughead, so don’t put this all on me.”

“I’m not!” he said and wanted to just blurt out everything he was feeling, everything that had been running through his head for weeks but didn’t know how to say. He held back though because there was a time and place and Betty hated too much attention, and a public episode was too much attention. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he finally settled on.

“What did you come here for?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“You,” he replied easily, pressing their bodies together once more, his hands on her hips. “You wanna go out with me?”

Betty’s shoulders began to relax, but her arms stayed crossed. “What, like a date? Jug, be serious—“

“Oh, I’m one hundred percent serious, babe,” he said with a grin, managing to, once again, use ‘babe’ while sounding both endearing and like a bro, knowing it frustrated her to no end. “You get off in ten minutes, let’s go out, get some food, eat too much, get contact high and act a little drunk from it, have _fun_.”

“Contact high?” she questioned, a smile now fighting to overtake the straight line her mouth had become.

Jughead nodded, leaning in to push her hair back and kiss her neck, his hands sliding down to her butt, and grinned when her arms finally dropped. “You know, contact high,” he insisted in between kisses.

Her head tilted to the side and let him have the victory. Her hands snaked inside his jacket, gripping onto his t-shirt. “You know eventually we have to talk, right? I’m sure Veronica made an unveiled threat.”

He pulled away while kissing her gently. “Of course she did, it wouldn’t be a classic Veronica threat unless she spelled out exactly what she was going to do to you,” he agreed, making a laugh bubble off her lips. “You let me worry about Veronica Lodge. Now go, I’ll wait here while you do finish up,” he urged and separated their limbs in an effort to get her going.

“You promise?” she asked, holding her pinky up with a lip between her teeth.

Jughead hooked his pinky around hers, locking them together for a moment before dropping them with a grin, then picking her up under her bum, making her shriek. “Yes, I promise, now hurry before I just drag you out,” he insisted, letting her down after a twirl.

Betty’s smile was wide as she regained her footing, her cheeks tainted pink, eyes sparkling. “I’m going, I’m going,” she breathed while walking away and he sank down on a barstool, his own eyes watching her every move. He knew she could feel it, and he wanted her to.

*

New York City was a magical place and Betty knew it as soon as she stepped foot out of the rented U-Haul the day she moved in with Jughead.  

It was truly the city that never sleeps, there was always something to do, always hustle and bustle, always some kind of entertainment. And Jughead flourished in the environment it created. Ever the night owl he could tell you exactly what to do at three AM on any random Wednesday night when a study break was needed, he was always up for some kind of adventure, and at his core Betty believed he was a true New Yorker. He had snarky and being all-knowing down to a T.

She’d been beyond surprised when Jughead showed up at the bar, even more so when the first thing he did was kiss her in a way that made her want to just be fucked right there on the bar (hm, that _was_ a fantasy, at least it is now).

What didn’t surprise her was that Veronica went straight to the source of Betty’s problems: Jughead. Her best friend received an ominous text while Betty was punching her timecard in the back where Jug couldn’t see her. She understood Veronica’s need to help her, but it also wasn’t her place to practically accost Jughead either.

Hours later though, when Jug had her against the side of a brick building, his mouth on the crest of her breast and a hand up her shirt, she couldn’t find it in her to be angry. Jug had a point about contact high, it was definitely a real, and important, thing.

“Hm, Juggie,” Betty laughed with a hand in his hair.

“I’m really not going for a laughing mood, Betts,” Jughead insisted, pulling away to look at her with a too-serious face.

“I’m sorry, I just—what base do you plan on getting to right now? Because our bed is just a couple blocks to the left and we could be naked in about five minutes if we wanted to.”

“Always the rational one,” he sighed with a quick kiss as he tugged her off the building, and she stumbled in step with him.

“I’m sorry, were you enjoying the slight boob touching? We can keep at it, I was just—“

“No, you want to have sex now, I understand, it’s okay. The art of seduction is obviously lost on you—ow!” he exclaimed when Betty smacked his stomach, his jacket slipping off her shoulder because of the motion.

“The art of seduction, shut up,” she laughed. He’d sacrificed his top layer to her, rolling his eyes and mumbling something about ‘always being cold’ earlier in the night, and made a subtle point to not put on the flannel tied around his waist. Boys.

Jughead re-covered her shoulder and wrapped arms around her from behind as they waited for the crosswalk light to change. “You’re right, I’ve never had to seduce you, you’re pretty randy all the time—stop hitting me!”

“Stop being a dick,” Betty feigned anger, linking their hands together instead of having them wrapped around her waist to make it easier for walking with him behind her.

It’d been an amazing night, a classic Bughead date, as Veronica would call it. He’d taken her to their favorite twenty-four-hour diner that reminded them of Pop Tate’s. He wouldn’t let her order a salad or anything remotely healthy, then smirked when she practically moaned into a greasy burger. They shared numerous plates of fries, milkshakes, and laughs, then took a walk through Central Park, talking about stupid things they hadn’t been able to tell each other because of the distance between them, stopping to sit and curl up on a bench every so often.

“Me, a dick? Never,” he whispered in her ear as they came upon a band playing on the next street corner, not something uncommon in the city, or even at three AM as was now.

Betty slowed and joined the fringe of the small crowd gathered to watch. It was two young men with guitars, another with some sort of maraca and they were singing in Spanish, or maybe Portuguese.

“Hm, pretty,” she whispered, tilting her head as Jughead nuzzled her neck. Then suddenly she was spun around and Jughead pulled her back in a dancing position. “Um, Jug, what are you doing?”

“Dancing, you remember, we did it at prom that one time?” he replied with a glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m just a little confused because we haven’t done it since and I had to beg you to do it then.”

“You never have to beg for anything, Betty Cooper, you can always get what you want when you put your mind to it.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said so quietly she wasn’t sure if he heard, but guessed he did when he held her tighter.

“You didn’t even beg me then,” he went on and she pulled her head away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. “Technically you bribed me with food.”

 “Hm, that’s right,” Betty recalled, squeaking in surprise when he twirled her around.

“But you didn’t even have to do that, I would have danced with you regardless. I love you, Betty, all I want is to make you happy, even if that means dancing every three to five years.”

“You’re cute,” she replied in a whisper and smiled as she noticed other people joining in their dancing. “Thank you for tonight, Jug, it was… I can’t think of a synonym for perfect that works, but that’s what this was.”

“It’s been how many years since you broke the mold and stopped being what everyone else wanted to just be you? I think we can reclaim the word,” Jughead told her. “Because you’re not that ‘perfect girl next door’ anymore, but you’re the girl I fell in love with, the woman I want to grow old with, and if you ask me that’s pretty perfect.”

“You and your words, Jughead Jones,” Betty murmured, her forehead resting on his as they swayed. “I can’t wait until you publish your first novel, I’m just going to be a puddle on the floor.”

“Hm,” Jughead chuckled, his hands resting low on her hips, his fingers dancing on her bum. “Are you sure you’re going to be a puddle or one will end up in your underwear?”

“Juggie!” Betty exclaimed, pink staining her cheeks, and she moved to nuzzle his shoulder to hide it.

“Deny it,” he insisted low in her ear.

“Shut up.” Betty glowered as he just continued to chuckle in her ear. “Well maybe knowing it’s true will light a fire under your ass to continue your manuscript, or at least let me read it,” she commented.

“Nice try, no. I haven’t let anyone read it, but when I do you know you’ll be the first. We’ll lay in bed and go over each page because you’re a grammar wizard and I’ll give you multiple orgasms until we finish,” he told her, his lips moving against the bare skin under her ear.

Betty tried not to shiver, but it was involuntary. “That… that might take a couple days, right? It’s a novel, not a novel _la_.”

“We might need to take a weekend off together, maybe make a thing of it, get a cheap hotel room, even cheaper champagne, maybe some—“

“Okay, stop,” Betty huffed while tilting her head away from him to try and calm herself. It wasn’t working.

“I love getting you worked up in public,” he teased, twirling her around once more.

“I love what happens _after_ I get worked up,” Betty glowered.

“Oh yeah?” Jughead questioned, to which she nodded. “Then let’s get to it,” he stated and bent down to lift her from under the butt, making Betty shriek.

A little over five minutes later they were crashing through their front door and Jughead kicked it shut behind him, taking a moment to slap all the locks into place because safety and when he turned back around she had already let his jacket drop from her shoulders and kicked off her shoes.

Jughead took a moment to just look at her before he rushed forward and cupped her face, their lips fighting for dominance. It took just a few hurried movements to get their shirts off and Betty hadn’t noticed she was backing up until her butt hit the dinner table.

Jughead was unbuttoning her jeans and lightly kissing down her neck, his lips ghosting over skin and making her eyes close. “I like this,” he murmured against the straps of her bralette.

“Fuck,” Betty moaned as his teeth bit her sensitive flesh, her fingers gripping on his hair to keep him in position. It’d been a surprise when they first started having sex she liked things more on the rough side, but Jughead smirked and said ‘it’s always the quiet ones’ before manhandling her.

“Not yet,” he replied, lifting her onto the table, letting their lips meet again. He forcefully removed her hands from his head and placed them on the edge of wood, then looked at her with a devilish smile. “I’m gonna have some fun first.”

Betty picked herself up when he tugged on her underwear and slid it down her legs and mirrored his grin. “I missed you,” she admitted, opening into a V for him to step into and slid a hand up his bare chest, “I missed this.”

“I plan on making it up to you,” he promised with hands hard on her thighs, and kissed her hard before kicking a leg back to wrap his foot around the chair behind him.

“What’re you doing?” Betty breathed, licking her lips and leaning back on her hands. “Did you clean?” she questioned, just now looking around.

“Is that what you’re thinking about right now, really?”

“I can multi-task,” she insisted and watched as he sat down in the wooden seat and then jerked her forward to the edge of the table again, making her lose balance.

“Not for long,” he teased and maneuvered so her calves were cascading down his back and she felt his breath on her opening.

“Jug,” she moaned in need, looking down at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“And as for what I’m doing, well,” he went on and with the most innocent face licked her inner folds and she gasped at the sensation. “I was always taught to eat the most important meals at the table,” he finished before finally taking her into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Betty gasped, her hands slipping out from under her to reach for his head, to thread into his hair to keep him in place. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she didn’t even try to control her grunts and moans.

She felt him smile against her folds and forced herself to get up on her hands to look at him.

Jug’s arms were looped around her legs, hands folded under her bellybutton, and his eyes were closed as he devoured her. It literally looked like he was eating his favorite thing in the world and that was her. “Jug,” she breathed making his eyes snap open to look at her, but continued his ministrations.

They continued like that, staring at each other, Betty cheering him on in breathy tones and pleads.

Suddenly his teeth came into play on her clit and without warning she came hard and fast. Again, Betty fell back on the table, her back arching, her hand tightening on Jughead’s hair, her voice making a noise she couldn’t comprehend.

Jughead didn’t stop there, he licked her through the orgasm making tremors over take her body, making is so she couldn’t quite from down from her high. Betty knew words were spilling from her lips, but she didn’t know exactly what she was saying and when Jughead’s fingers finally entered her, stretching her and setting a brutal pace. It was hard and fast, and Betty felt like she was floating, coming again when she never really came down from before.

Betty had multiple orgasms before, of course, but never came so fast initially, then again in quick succession.

When she finally opened her eyes she found Jughead standing in front of her, jeans and underwear gone, slowly rubbing a hand up and down his enlarged member, just watching her.

“Hi,” she whispered, sitting up and Jughead cupped the back of her neck with his free hand.

“Hey,” he greeted in return, pressing his lips against hers lightly.

“Can we do that again? Not right now, I don’t know if I even _could_ again, but we should try, you know, some other time.”

“Hmm,” Jughead chuckled, now unhooking her bra and she tossed it aside, replacing his hand with hers on his cock. “I’m a big eater, Betts, I think I can manage.”

Even though he just made her come two times, even though they were both naked, and even though she had nothing to be embarrassed about Betty blushed and leaned in to kiss his chest.

“I love you,” she murmured against his bare skin and her body trembled when his thumb began circling her clit slowly.

“I love you too,” he said into her hair before kissing it.

“Show me,” she challenged, pulling away to look at him with a sparkle in her eye.

Jughead grinned and dropped into the chair once more, pulling on her hands to follow suit.

Betty straddled him and rested her feet on the wooden planes of the support beams to lift herself up over him.

They both moaned at the feeling of him stretch and fill her, neither moving for a moment, just enjoying the sensations of being connected to one another.

Jughead joined their lips together, one hand at the back of her head, the other around her lower back and pulled her further up her lap so he was deeper inside her. “I love you so fucking much, Betty,” he grunted as she began to move. “And I plan on trying to show you how much all night,” he promised and she smiled before kissing him.

*

Jughead sat at the end of their bed watching Betty with his back against the wall and a cigarette in his fingers. It wasn’t lit and he didn’t make a move to go get the lighter hidden in the kitchen cabinet on the highest shelf where Betty couldn’t reach.

He watched her half-exposed chest rise and fall with each breath and made a fist, forgetting about the cigarette and crushing it in the process. He swore under his breath and opened the window to let the tobacco dusting fall from his fingers.

When he looked back at the sleeping blonde her eyes were open, but glassy, and she rubbed them with her palms before sitting up.

“Morning,” he greeted, crawling up the bed to retake his place next to her.

“Morning,” she murmured and he kissed her gently. “How long have you been awake?”

“I don’t think I ever really got to sleep,” he admitted.

Betty wrapped her fingers around the wrist of the hand that was cupping her cheek and pulled it away to kiss his fingers. “What? I didn’t tire you out enough?”

“No, you did, but insomnia’s my mistress, Betts, and she won’t be ignored.”

Betty got up on her elbow and ran her knuckles down the side of his face. “You didn’t tell me you haven’t been sleeping, that your insomnia is back.”

Jughead just took her hand in his and opened it up for him to see.

Betty yanked it away. “Jug,” she said in a warning tone and sat up, not caring her chest wasn’t covered.

“No, Betty, I need to look,” he insisted, holding a hand out for her.

“I haven’t done it,” she told him, but still didn’t offer her palm. “I promised you if I ever felt the need to, even if I did it by accident, I’d tell you about it right away,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, because we’ve been the best communicators lately.”

“And who’s fault is that?” she demanded.

“Mine, I know that, I admit it, but Betty,” he stopped and held his hand out once more, “I need to make sure.”

With a sigh Betty dropped her hand in his and he opened her palm to find it scab free. She still had scars from how deep she had dug years before, but she hadn’t used the coping mechanism recently. It had been over a year now.

Jughead sighed with relief and bent down to kiss the scars as he always did when she offered herself to him like this. “I’m so fucking sorry, Betty, I—I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me, you know that, I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, and the fact that I did…” he trailed off. “You cried and that kills me.”

“What’s going on, Jug? We’ve always been able to talk about stuff. Even if it’s hard and you need your time I’ve respected your space until you’re ready. Is that what you need right now? If you do I understand, I just need you to tell me that so I know—“

“I don’t need any more space, Betty, I shouldn’t have avoided this in the first place. Yes, it’s almost finals, yes we both have a ton of work, but I could have handled this better.”

Betty ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head for a moment to relax him. “So let’s talk.”

Jughead leaned his head into her ministrations, gathering his thoughts and she let him take his time. “I get why you didn’t come outright and say anything, it sucks, but I get it. I’m not going to lie, it hurt when I realized what you were trying to convey, that’s why I acted stupid when I knew you wanted to have sex. I thought it was your way of making it up to me and I didn’t want it that way. You have a right to feel the way you do, but I could have handled it better.”

“Jug, what are you talking about?” Betty questioned.

“Betty,” Jughead said with a serious look.

“Jughead,” she replied in the same tone.

Jughead sighed and angled his body around to rifle through his drawer of their nightstand. After finding what he was looking for he dropped it in her hand.

Betty looked at the wooden box in her hands and raised her eyebrows at him. “Your treasure chest from when you were a kid? What do I need this for?” she asked, fingers moving across the top where his dad had his name engraved. Jughead had gone through a pirate stage as a child, only wearing pirate hats, and would find little trinkets he would pretend were jewels and put them in his ‘treasure chest’.

“Just open it.”

Betty shrugged and opened it and her mouth dropped. “Jughead?”

“I know you found it and moved it. I thought it was a mistake until you went on and on about your mother and the wedding announcements she sent you and how you didn’t need to get married. I got the hint. It hurt, but… it is what it is, you know? I just needed time to process.”

Betty’s mouth was still open in shock.

“Betts?”

“Jughead, I never,” she breathed, her eyes still trained on the ring inside the small box. It was silver with a circle diamond on top, simple and perfect.

“You… don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“No, I—you thought I knew?”

“I had it in my drawer of the nightstand. Then one day it was gone and after freaking out I tore apart the apartment. I found it in the junk box in the closet. I thought you were giving me a sign.”

“Jughead, do you really think I would do that? Put an engagement ring in the junk box to tell you I didn’t want to get married?”

“I thought it was a mix up until you went on about your mother. Are you saying I’m wrong about that too?”

“Yes!” Betty exclaimed, grabbing his hand with her free one. “My mom kept sending me those stupid wedding announcements in the Register for me to ‘look over’ as a sign she wanted us to get married. I didn’t want to freak you out and I don’t mind waiting a while if we decide on that. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything you weren’t ready for. We’ve talked about it, how we want to, obviously, and that my mom and Veronica are going to drive me nuts with the planning—“

“Betty,” Jughead interrupted, tugging at his hair like he does when he’s frustrated. “I asked your parents for permission over Christmas break.”

“You asked for permission?”

“Yes, you know when a man wants to marry a woman out of respect he goes to her father and asked for her hand in marriage? I did that, but I asked your dad and your mom, because you know how your mom is—“

“She has the power in my parent’s relationship,” Betty finished for him. Betty’s eyes were trained on the ring again. “I take it they said yes?”

“After a thirty minute interrogation, yes.”

Her eyes snapped up to him. “Interrogation?”

Jughead nodded and snorted. “It was pretty much an oral exam, Betts.”

“Oh, my God, Jug, I’m so sorry,” she insisted, a hand cupping his cheek.

“I was prepared, I know your mother. I had to tell her my career plan, how I planned on supporting her daughter, but I think I earned points when I reminded her that you can very much take care of yourself, she wanted my GPA and credit score, she even asked about my manuscript since she knows I have a novel started.”

“It was after Christmas when my mom started sending me those wedding announcements,” Betty whispered to herself. “Why would she do that? She didn’t need my input. What, did he want, like, hints on how I wanted ours to look like?” Betty looked at him for an answer.

“That I have no idea, maybe it _was_ her way of letting you know she wanted us to get married, that she was okay with it, you know, in case you were worried when I asked,” Jughead offered.

“Jug, I went on those rants because I was annoyed with her for one, bothering me when I have school work and other things to do, and two, because I thought it was her way of pressuring you through me. I didn’t want you to think I was behind it, that I was… becoming Alice Cooper or something.”

“I never thought you were behind it. We have talked about marriage before, Betts, I know it was in your plan.”

“Yes, but when we talked about it all we really said was that we wanted to eventually. It’s like our plan to travel the world after graduation before starting our lives. We know we want to do it but we don’t know when or how.”

“Technically we have a plan for when we want to do the traveling thing.”

“Jughead,” Betty warned.

“I’m taking this seriously, don’t give me that look,” he muttered. “So how did it get in the junk box then?”

“That is my fault,” Betty admitted. “I—okay, this is embarrassing. So, I…well the big box of condoms was on sale and they wouldn’t fit in my drawer so I made room for them in yours and I put your treasure chest in the closet, but I didn’t literally mean it was junk. I didn’t look in it, I swear, or I would have never done it. I would have ambushed you about it, honestly.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Jughead burst out laughing. He began laughing so hard his eyes watered and he fell back on the bed.

“Jug,” Betty questioned, trying not to partake in the hysteria.

“I’m so—,” he tried to stop but kept laughing. “It’s just,” he said while catching his breath. “I’ve been upset for a month thinking you were trying to turn me down in a subtle way and you had no idea, but I thought you did because you bought the big box of condoms.”

After that Betty joined in the laughter and they both continued until their stomachs hurt and were heaving for air in bed.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed as they settled, “that I made you feel like I would have said no.”

“When you kept trying to have sex with me I thought you were just trying to comfort me, and I didn’t want it that way. You had nothing to apologize for if you didn’t want to, you have every right to not want to yet or say no. I should have just spoken up about it and we could have solved this then. Instead I kept to myself and made you cry.”

“Jug, don’t. That’s now how it happened. I could have brought it up too, but I thought,” she stopped and sighed.

“What did you think?”

Betty rolled onto her back so she didn’t have to look at him. “I don’t know, that… I’m not the most exciting person, Jug. I have a routine and I like to stick to it and I always put school first, or work, and—“

“Betty,” Jughead got up on an elbow so she had to look at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“I feel like we’ve always been battling something whether it be my mom, the town, the Serpents, distance, this is the first time we have to just enjoy us, really be together all the time without something in the middle. So when you became distant, I don’t know, I thought it was because of me, because I know I have issues. You literally just had to check my palms because of my past, I clean too much, I’m a perfectionist and I hate it, I—“

“Betty, I love you, but shut up,” he interrupted. “We all have flaws and issues, I definitely do, I have so many. I’m a stress smoker, my family is fucked up, I avoid things when they go wrong, I’m not good without talking about shit that bothers me, case in point what is going on right now. One of the few things I’m sure about in my life is you, Betty Cooper. I love you so fucking much that my heart aches in the best fucking way. You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and fuck, just so much better than me—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not better than you.”

“How about we don’t fight about who loves the other one more, and we just chalk all this up to horrible communication, finals, and condoms,” Jughead suggested.

“Deal,” Betty giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “So,” she began not even a second later.

“So?” Jughead mimicked.

“Jug!” Betty exclaimed with a slap to his stomach. “Are you gonna…you know?”

“What?” he questioned.

“Forsythe Pen—“

“Okay, okay, don’t pull that on me,” he pleaded and picked up his treasure chest and took the ring out. “You know, I had this all planned out. It was going to be like last night, only you’d know about the date more than five minutes beforehand and when we came home there were going to be candles lit everywhere and—“

“That’s sweet, Jug, but I’m getting impatient over here.”

Jughead slipped the ring up her finger and kissed her lips. “Elizabeth Cooper, will you marry me?”

Betty was nodding with tears in her eyes as she catapulted herself into his arms, almost knocking them off the bed. “Yes, yes, yes,” she repeated into his shoulder as she held onto him for dear life. “I love you so much.”

Jughead breathed her in and was very aware just how naked they were. “I love you too.”

They pulled away, but before anything could happen they were interrupted by a thump on the bed and an annoyed meow from their black and white cat.

“Jamesy Cat!” Betty cooed, scooping up their fur baby to hug. “Mom and Dad are engaged!”

“I think he’s more worried about getting fed, Betts,” Jughead informed her. “Aren’t ya, Rebel?”

“Six months old and Daddy still doesn’t know your name, huh, Jamesy Cat?”

“His name is Rebel Without a Cause, because he’s cool, okay?”

“His name is James Dean, because that’s cool. Isn’t it Jamesy Cat?”

“I’m not calling him that,” Jughead insisted as she held the cat in his face and he merely meowed again. “But he does need fed,” he sighed while scooting out of bed, not wearing a stitch and the cat trotted along after him.

Betty fell back in bed and brought her left hand up to stare at her engagement ring.

She was engaged.

She was engaged _to Jughead_.

Betty smiled and did a happy dance in bed that mostly just shook the entire thing as she squealed into a pillow.

She felt stupid for the last three weeks, horrible for accidentally making him feel like she didn’t want him, and embarrassed that it all happened because she moved the box from his drawer because she to fit condoms to fit there for easy access. And finally, she felt exhausted.

Betty’s eyes flicked to the nightstand for the time. It was barely eight AM, she hadn’t fallen asleep until past five. She didn’t realize how tired she was, how overworked she felt from work and school and pretending everything was okay, pretending she was perfect, that her and Jug were perfect.

But they weren’t. Her relationship with Jughead wasn’t perfect and it was one of the main reasons she thought they worked. They looked like polar opposites, came from different backgrounds, and didn’t like many of the same things.

Betty was on the Dance Committee in school, attended and decorated every single one, was Editor of the Blue & Gold, a cheerleader, tutor, and peer mentor. Jughead was an outcast, not quite fitting in with the Riverdale mold, had the hardest exterior with the softest insides, and only went to dances when Betty asked him to, only joined the Blue & Gold because Betty believed in him. When the Serpents came along and made him feel wanted, it was Betty who reminded him that he'd been wanted all along, that he already had a home with her and with Archie.

“You gonna stare at that that thing all day now?” Jughead questioned, returning to the bedroom and fell into bed, jostling Betty and her thoughts.

“I might switch it up between the ring, you, and my own eyelids.”

“I know, right? I’m so fucking tired,” Jughead groaned and snuggled into her chest.

Betty, of course, put her hand in his hair and tugged on it so he would look up at her. “No dwelling on the past three weeks okay? Just… do what we said, forget about it and move on, deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed and kissed her lazily.

They were interrupted by her phone going off and they both huffed in annoyance. “Answer it.”

“It’s your phone,” Jughead countered.

“It’s Veronica calling to see if you’re in her good graces again.”

“So you should tell her I am,” he insisted, handing her the still ringing cell phone.

Betty shook her head. “How about… if you answer it I’ll let you touch my boobs later?”

Immediately the phone was at Jughead’s ear. “Yeah?”

Betty grinned in victory and got back to staring at her engagement ring. It was simple and perfect and she really planned on staring at it for the rest of the day.

“Ronnie, say my real name one more time—“ her  fiancé was cut off and she grinned at the thought. “I told you, we’re good now.”

Betty’s eyes fluttered closed as she listened to her best friend fight over the phone with Jughead. Her engagement made her feel whole and content, and she knew after sleep and more time for it to set in her and Jug wouldn’t be leaving their bed.

She kissed his chest sleepily, thinking about how she might hate the word perfect, but how Jughead proposed, how it was classic and so completely him, there was no other word to describe it. Her and Jughead, they were perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't the happiest with the ending, but I didn't want it to be big and extravagant. (And I also couldn't keep staring at it, it wasn't going to get any better but it definitely could get worse, you know what I mean?) 
> 
> This won't be the end of this 'verse. I'll probably write some codas and things of the sort. I have ideas.
> 
> Also working on two other Riverdale stories, so check back on me!! Thanks!


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